Getting to Know You
by coonassblondie
Summary: Hermione gets to know Charlie on a more personal level.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Getting To Know You (Part 1/3)  
**Rating** hard R/Light NC-17  
**Featured Character or Pairing(s):** Charlie/Hermione  
**Summary:** Hermione wants to get to know Charlie a bit better, but doesn't realize he wants to get to know her just as well.  
**Warnings:** Tooth-aching fluffiness? None, really.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of it. If I did, I wouldn't have nearly as many bills.  
**Author's notes:** I wrote this for the 2009 Weasley fest for florahart, but my laptop crashed shortly afterward, and I'm just now getting around to posting it. I hope everyone enjoys reading as much as I enjoy writing. Please leave me a review, I will try my best to respond to all of them.

"Why don't you ask him to dance?"

You turn around at the sudden question to look straight into the emerald gaze of your best friend of seven years. The two of you have become so close that you can almost read each other's thoughts. Although, in your case it can't be hard because you are practically shouting them to the room.

"Tried. Said he had two left feet, but appreciated the offer. Told me I should ask Ron instead," you reply bluntly, trying to mask your embarrassment, before continuing, "then he laughed, as if I were joking!" Harry gives you a sympathetic look, and you wish for all the world that he wouldn't. You don't want him to feel sorry for you, and you tell him so. He chuckles in response and pulls you close to him, arm draped loosely around your shoulders, making one of the old biddies at the next table gasp and exclaim, "Well, I never! Married less than an hour and already searching for a mistress. Men!" You hear her harrumph and roll your eyes. For some reason people just don't understand your platonic closeness with Harry. Having both been raised without a sibling to comfort you in times of need, you naturally turned toward each other and a lifetime bond had been formed. Harry had been the first to figure out your crush on the second eldest Weasley brother and encouraged you to do something about it.

You sigh and shrug his arm off of you as you stand up; stretching your calves in the too-tight heels you had to borrow from your cousin. In the past year, buying party clothes has hardly been high on your priority list, and you had needed something nice to wear for Harry and Ginny's wedding. You had put in a lot of extra effort, borrowing a nice strapless summer dress in a shade of pink that set off your skin tone nicely, along with the too-small, golden, strappy four inch heels that were now pinching your feet mercilessly. You had gone through three bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion in an attempt to tame your wild curls into something resembling a French twist. You had painstakingly done your makeup by hand instead of casting a quick lip-balm charm on yourself. You had put in the effort, by Merlin, and it had all been for naught.

You sigh again as Harry stands to give you one last hug before he leaves you to join his new bride, and depart for their honeymoon in Paris. You say your goodbyes to he and Ginny, one of the few girls you have gotten along with over the years. You have an understanding with her, a kinship that is only understood by women with mostly male friends, in your case, and a plethora of brothers in hers. You can talk with her about serious things, discuss your concerns and fears without being worried they will make it to the gossip mill or be splashed across the front page of the _Prophet_ the next day. It took Ginny all of twenty-four hours to squirrel your secret out of her fiancé-now-husband, and twelve more to give you advice on how to go about winning Charlie's attention, and eventually, affections. You remember the speech perfectly.

"Charlie is a thick-headed bloke, Hermione," she had stated, stopping to frog Harry in the arm when he made to interrupt her with a token plea that not all men were thick-headed. "As I was saying, _most_ men are thick-headed blokes, my brothers included. Well, except maybe Bill, he seems to be able to find his arse with both hands now that he's all grown up. Anyway, if you want to get Charlie's attention, you have to get in his face. Don't be subtle. Subtlety is lost on him. The man works with dragons, for Merlin's sake, so you know he's a very action-oriented, in-your-face kind of guy, and taking action is the best way to get through to him."

Right, action, you tell yourself as you watch the burly redhead discussing something with Oliver Wood across the room. Quidditch, you are sure, is the subject, and you're not quite sure you _want_ to interrupt. You hear his chuckle from across the room and his deep tones shoot straight to your inner core. Gods, you needed to hear that laugh more. So, you inch closer, making a circuit of the room, trying to avoid conversation…

"Hermione, dear! How are you enjoying the feshtivitiesh?" Molly asks you, giving you a very tight hug before releasing you, hiccupping, then giggling girlishly. Arthur, who is standing a bit behind her, one hand on her shoulder, one on her hip, is apparently keeping her in an upright position. He gives you a warm smile and you assume that the matriarch of the Weasley family has been celebrating the union of her daughter, by the light scent of firewhiskey wafting from her. You try not to grin as you reply, "I'm having a lovely time, Molly. You've outdone yourself again."

"Yes, Yes, thank you, dear. I had lots of help. You, and Ginny, and Fleur, oh and Lavender also. Yes, wonderful girls to help me out, hopefully we'll be celebrating your or Ron's wedding next, right?" Molly gives you what she considers a conspiratorial wink, the rather obvious gesture making you laugh hysterically internally. Outwardly, you just give her a small smile and respond, "Possibly."

"Pos..Posh…Poshibly. Arthur, I believe I need to go have a lie down. You have a wonderful evening, dear." With her parting words, Molly gives you another bone-crushing hug and lets her loving husband steer her towards the house and their bed. You begin to think, after the stress of the day, that Charlie Weasley is a lost cause and you could use a bit of a lie-down yourself. The crowd is starting to dissipate anyway, and of the guests left, Fleur and Lavender seemed perfectly capable of entertaining them.

As you enter the kitchen from the flowery back garden of the Burrow to head to the room that you have claimed as yours in recent weeks, you fail to notice that Charlie is nowhere in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Getting To Know You (Part 2/3)  
**Rating** hard R/Light NC-17  
**Featured Character or Pairing(s):** Charlie/Hermione  
**Summary:** Hermione wants to get to know Charlie a bit better, but doesn't realize he wants to get to know her just as well.  
**Warnings:** Tooth-aching fluffiness? None, really.  
**Word Count:** This part: 1,306  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of it. If I did, I wouldn't have nearly as many bills.  
**Author's/Artist's notes:** Aaaaand here's the next part!

You consider the narrow staircase. Having said your good-nights to the remaining wedding guests, who were steadily trickling out towards their homes or the pubs, you had started towards your room. Now, the only obstacle between you and your bed is the staircase, seeming endless before you. You breathe deeply through your nose and exhale through your mouth, enjoying the quiet of the empty house, although you can still hear faint feminine laughter from the back-garden.

You plop down onto the squashy couch in the living room and rest your left foot on your right knee, setting about the task of untying the straps of your shoe. You know there is no way in Hades you are going to make it to the third floor of the Burrow wearing the tight heels. You let out a satisfied grunt as your rub your thumb across your abused arch, then moan in satisfaction as you stretch your foot and hear your toes pop. You giggle girlishly at the noises you are making. If anyone overheard you they might think you were up to something naughty. You consider arguing that a good foot rub after a long day of French heels might just be orgasmic, before deciding that it's the champagne you had earlier that is making you consider arguing with yourself.

Once you have your shoes off completely you stand, stretch your arms out and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. Yes, definitely time to head to bed. You finally attack the stairs and start making your way upwards, stopping every few steps to take a breath and stretch your back. Once you reach the door of the bedroom you can't quite figure out how you got there. You shrug internally and head in, trying futilely to unzip your dress, making you dance awkwardly around the room.

You give up momentarily as you stop in front of the mirrored armoire and sit on the small wooden stool provided, then sigh at the thought of dancing. Perhaps, if you had insisted that you would teach him, Charlie would have joined you. You stop yourself from playing the "what if" game, because you know it will keep you awake all night, analyzing every detail of every one of your actions, and you don't want to do that tonight. You just want to rest, to not think, and you want to get the bloody pins out of your hair and get out of this bloody dress.

As you stretch both arms behind you to reach for the zipper one more time, you hear a scratchy voice ask, "Do you need help with this?" You gasp at the sound, knowing, but not really believing, who the voice belongs to. You sit as still as you can as you feel each tooth of the zipper being unclasped from its mate. You can feel the body heat radiating off him, you can smell the faint scent of his woodsy cologne, mixed with the smell of the firewhiskey that had been so abundant earlier.

"What are you doing in here?" You whisper, scared that if you speak any louder, this apparition would disappear like so many daydreams before. You can feel his breath on the back of your neck as he whispers in reply, "Well, it _is_ my room. Or, it was at one time. I was trying to sleep."

"Oh, I'm sorry I woke you." You reply softly as you begin to pull the pins from your hair, biting your lip to keep from groaning in ecstasy. You glance in the mirror and you watch him sit on the bed behind you, watching you with a trance-like fascination burning in his eyes.

"I wasn't asleep."

"Oh," is your only reply as you continue to tug the pins from your hair and drop them in the catchall on your vanity. His vanity. No, your vanity. He lives in Romania now. Right? You shake your head a bit to clear the confusion then blush as he gives you a lopsided grin and asks, "fuzzy thoughts?"

"Something like that," you attempt to reply nonchalantly, as you pull out the last pin and pick up the brush. You try not to squeak as you watch him stand, walk towards you and take the brush from your hand. As he begins to slowly work the brush through your curls, you close your eyes and let your head tilt back with the sublime ecstasy of the feeling of the soft bristles on your scalp.

You know that you could easily cast a sobering charm, calmly explain to Charlie that you had appropriated his room at the beginning of your apprenticeship, and that you would gladly go bunk in Ginny's old bedroom for the night. You know these things, yet you don't care. You think there is something freeing about losing your inhibitions. If you have to rely on alcohol and fatigue to allow you to let go of that bit of control, then so be it. You're tired of tiptoeing around your feelings and you have made your decision by the time you hear Charlie set the brush down.

You open your eyes as you turn to him, and find him staring at you intently with those deep blue eyes. You reach out and take his hand, and he pulls you toward him, wrapping his arm around your waist. You bite your lower lip as you feel his breath on your neck, then his tongue sliding across your pulse point. The soft moan you finally let out is swallowed by his lips meeting yours.

Your tongues battle for dominance as you spin awkwardly across the room, your dress gaping open at the back, his pyjama pants slung low on his hips. You reach up to card your fingers through his rakishly long hair, not quite lengthy enough for a ponytail after the job Molly had done with her wand earlier.

As you pull away from him, tugging on his bottom lip gently with your teeth, he pushes both shoulders of your dress down your arms and you let it fall to the floor. He holds your hands out in front of you as he steps back, giving you, and your knickers, an appraising glance. Thanks to the lifting and separating charms Lavender had felt necessary to share with the entire dorm during your sixth year, a brassiere had been unnecessary, and now, you are somewhat thankful for that.

Before you know it, you are both starkers and lying in bed, wrapped in each others arms, snogging as if your lives depended on it. You feel his hand slide down your frame to the apex of your thighs, and with the first twitch of his fingers you are lost to sensation. Gods, you haven't been touched so intimately in so long, and you arch your hips toward his hand in encouragement. When he chuckles in your ear doesn't help matters any, and you kiss him again just to shut him up.

As your world explodes around you for the first time in a long time, you feel him slide into you, filling you. You feel yourself slipping into surrealism as you feel his hard flesh against and inside you, the salty taste of his sweat on your lips as you kiss every inch of him you can reach. Your world explodes around you again and you believe for a moment that fireworks are going off behind your eyelids.

You hear a muffled charm whispered, and feel the coolness of a cleaning charm as you drift off to sleep. You feel strong arms wrap around you and pull you close, and you fade off into a peaceful slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

__**Title:** Getting To Know You (Part 3/3)  
**Rating** hard R/Light NC-17  
**Featured Character or Pairing(s):** Charlie/Hermione  
**Summary:** Hermione wants to get to know Charlie a bit better, but doesn't realize he wants to get to know her just as well.  
**Warnings:** Tooth-aching fluffiness? None, really.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of it. If I did, I wouldn't have nearly as many bills.  
**Author's/Artist's notes:** And here is the last and final part. I had a lot of fun writing this, although the second person POV was hard. Big thanks to Mishty, my beta. Please let me know what you thought.

You awake with sunlight on your face, the rays coming in through the window warming your cheeks and making you blissfully aware that you've had a good night's sleep. You open your eyes slowly, then blink a few times in surprise as you become more aware of the long, hard body snuggled up against yours. A quick glance under the duvet reveals a freckled brown arm snaked around your waist, resting heavily on your stomach.

You turn onto your back, then turn your head quickly to find out who is sharing your bed, since your memories of the previous evening are a bit hazy. Your head is pounding, and your mouth is dry, signs you associate with too much drink the night before. You remember vaguely that there was a wedding yesterday, and you had several glasses of champagne before heading up to your room. You gasp audibly as your eyes meet the steadfast blue gaze of Charlie Weasley.

You suppose you should be surprised that he is already awake at the crack of dawn, but then you decide that he is probably used to rising early, and you shake the thought off. You blink a few times in surprise before blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

"What are you doing here?"

You could easily slap yourself as you watch his eyes crinkle with amusement as he softly replies,

"Well, it _is_ my room."

"I believe it is now _my_ room, Mr. Weasley, you haven't used it in years." You reply snarkily as you turn to face him, and realise you are both starkers. You try your best to ignore the blush you can feel to the roots of your hair as you ask, a serious undertone to your voice,

"What happened last night?"

"I'm pretty confident we had sex, Hermione."

You don't have any reply to his candid statement except a soft "oh." When you go to swing your legs over the side of the bed, Charlie's hand becomes heavier and you stop when you hear him whisper, "Please, don't run away?"

You settle down into the bed again, this time facing him, taking him in. You rake your eyes from his stubble-covered chin down his neck, then across his broad shoulders. As you glance across his chest, you notice a red dragon, a Chinese Fireball, curled up asleep on his left pectoral, and you go to touch it. He shivers a bit as you run your finger across the ink, and the dragon puffs a bit of smoke and stretches it's front claws out, much like a cat, then curls back up and goes back to sleep.

"Do you have any more?" You ask, curious about this man whom you know little of. Charlie grins in reply as he throws the duvet back, and you shiver as the cool air of the room brushes your skin, causing goose-flesh to rise across your arms.

Charlie turns over abruptly, and you gasp at the Norwegian Ridgeback that covers his entire back, it's tail swishing slowly across the dimples above his arse. You follow the line of it's back with your finger, and he shivers when you reach it's head, resting on it's shoulder. The dragon turns to look at you, then breathes a jet of fire, warm to the touch, across Charlie's back, making him tremble a bit in response. As Charlie turns to face you again, you also notice a flag waving on his arm, a combination of England and Romania's flags, in deference to his two homes, or so you assume. When he turns on his stomach, and folds his arms to rest his head on them, you find the Weasley coat of arms on the other arm, or that's what you assume the red shield to be.

"That's all of them. Do you have any?" Charlie asks, turning his face toward you and rakes his eyes over your nude form, causing you to shiver again, this time from the heat you feel instead of the cold.

"No, I don't. I've always heard that they hurt, and I dislike the thought of needles." You reply as you lay back down, facing him again.

"Magical tattoos don't involve needles. You just tell the wizard what you want, or provide him with a picture, and he says an incantation. It tickles for a moment, and they are removable, which is probably why Mum hasn't given me any grief yet. She's holding out hope that I'll have them removed when I grow up."

You note with surprise that this is the longest conversation you've ever had with the man you've been fancying for months, laying naked in your bed, snuggled up next to him. You are both quiet for the next few minutes, lost in your thoughts, until you abruptly break the silence by asking,

"What are you thinking of?"

"Weddings." He replies, bluntly, then chuckles as your brows raise in surprise.

"Oh really. Planning on getting married soon?"

"Why, Hermione, are you asking me to marry you?" He grins as you roll your eyes and swat him playfully on the arm.

"No, I'm not. Besides, your family is convinced that Ron and I will be announcing our engagement any day now."

"Not my _entire_ family, Luv." He replies, pulling you to him and planting a soft kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, before brushing his lips softly against yours. You respond eagerly to his kiss, his tongue brushing your mouth slightly, asking for entrance, which you freely give. He pulls away from you a moment later to continue,

"Besides, it's not Ron you went to bed with last night, eh?"

You grin stupidly in response as you shake your head. He grins, but his face falls as he hears the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, then a voice shouting in the hallway.

"Whoever is in these rooms, I suggest you move it back to your proper place before you mother gets up here!"

Both of you wait to hear Arthur's retreating footsteps down the stairs before breaking into hysterical laughter. You finally get your giggles under control before asking Charlie,

"Do you think he knows who is in here?"

"Oh, I'm sure he does. After all, I should be fast asleep in Percy's room, and he is supposed to be bunking with George. We were told that you would be sleeping in here, and Harry and Ginny in Ginny's room for the night, although they are probably long gone by now. When I headed up, Percy and Audrey were doing unmentionable things in his room, and door to the twins' room was locked tight. I didn't want to know _what_ was going on in there."

You reach out and whack him on the arm again before replying with some fervor you don't actually feel, "So you _did_ know I was in here last night!"

Charlie only laughed slightly in response before taking you in his arms and snogging the daylights out of you again before replying.

"Of course I did. I saw you leave the party, and set mum in your path so that I would be here when you came up. Worked like a charm, dinnit?"

You simply roll your eyes in response, grab your wand off the headboard to send locking and silencing charms at the door. You know full well you will get a scolding from Molly later about laying about all day, but as you again take in Charlie's bright blue eyes and broad chest, you decide you don't much care.

With that final though, you pull the duvet over the both of you and set about getting to know Charlie Weasley a little bit better. 


End file.
